by Lori Foster
It was so hot, so unexpected that Reese knew he was a goner. The second she uncoiled and her tension seeped away, he sat up and grabbed for his wallet. Hands shaking, he opened a condom and rolled it on.
But when he looked back at Alice, he caught her dazed smile, and he had to kiss her again. Then once more. “You are incredible.”
“I am limp.”
He carried her hand down to his cock, wrapped her fingers around him. Heat washed over him. “Limp is okay,” he promised in a low growl, “as long as you’re still with me.”
“I’m very much with you,” she purred back, stroking him once, twice. Her thumb brushed up and over him, and he shuddered clean down to his toes.
Pulling her hand away again, he moved over her. “Next time,” he promised her roughly, “I’ll be a little less voracious.” He settled between her legs, using a knee to open her even more.
“I hope not.” Holding his face, looking into his eyes, she wrapped her legs around him.
He saw so much emotion in her gaze, both wonder and excitement, that it should have made him uneasy.
It didn’t, not with Alice.
“You like me a little lost, is that it?” He positioned himself, her creamy wetness bathing the head. Hot. Slippery. How the hell could he still form a coherent thought?
“I think,” Alice whispered, going serious, “that I like you any way I can have you.”
That did it. He kissed her hard—and thrust in.
It was a tight fit. Always. But with Alice being so small and delicate...he thought he might die from the exquisite pleasure of her squeezing around him.
She’d gone still beneath him, breath suspended, her nails again leaving half-moons in his shoulders.
He knew she needed a minute—a minute he didn’t have. He braced on his forearms, jaw clenched, shoulders bunching as he fought for control. Tension squeezed around him like a vise, and he knew he’d break at any second.
“Reese?”
Her tiny voice pained him; he held himself as immobile as he could, but no way could he reply.
Her puffing breaths met his lips. She shifted a little, probably trying to accommodate him but only inciting him more.
It felt as if lust boiled inside him, churning, rising.
“Reese?” she whispered again, this time with a question. He heard her swallow, felt her deliberately ease. She let out a long, broken breath. “Reese.”
Well, now, that sounded different.
He met her dark, smoldering gaze, saw her face flushed with need—and realized that she was with him after all.
He withdrew slowly, watching her, fascinated with her shuddering reaction. He knew he stretched her, that as he slowly sank back in she felt a measure of discomfort.
It was there in her halting breath. In the way she arched and tensed. How her lips parted and her thighs strained against him.
But he saw the rising pleasure, too.
God, she was amazing.
Keeping the rhythm slow but steady, he kissed her jaw, the corner of her mouth. With one hand, he reached beneath her hips, positioning her just enough that each penetration stroked along her clitoris—making her wetter, hotter.
Anticipation showed in her heavy-lidded gaze as she touched his shoulders, his chest—and finally locked eyes with him.
Wondering if he’d ever tire of having Alice watch him in just that way, he drove deeper, rocking them both, wringing a small cry from her.
He went still deep inside her. “Okay?”
She licked her lips and nodded. “Again...ah...”
Reese felt her pulsing around him.
“Again, please.”
The break in her voice told him that she was close to another climax, and suddenly he wanted that more than he wanted his own release. Leaning into her, Reese moved harder, faster, heat pouring off him, her scent and her escalating cries filling his head.
Suddenly she clenched, her slim body bowing hard on a deep, throaty groan.
Reese could literally feel her tighten around his cock, feel the milking spasms of her climax. The sounds she made, raw and real and exciting, pushed him right over the edge.
He gathered her close, put his face in her neck and ground out his own release.
* * *
AN INDETERMINATE AMOUNT of time later, Reese awoke, aware of Cash snuffling against the bottom of the closed door. Still sluggish both in body and mind, he lifted his head and looked at Alice.
She rested on the bed beside him, not curled close as was usually the case with women, but sprawled out, exhausted, limp.
Naked head to toe.
The covers completely off the bed.
Tumbled around her face, resembling a halo, her soft brown hair reflected the muted light of sundown through the open window.
But sweet as she might be, Alice was far from angelic.
Thank God.
Now without that haze of blinding lust, Reese studied her body. Slim, pale. Intrinsically female.
Her nipples were the same soft pink as her lips.
And thinking of lips...he sat up carefully so as not to disturb her, soaking up the sight of her, her belly, her thighs—and between them.
So damn pretty.
Again he noted the scrape and bruise on her knee. Had she fallen? He didn’t wonder about it long, not when she had that leg bent, showing him everything.
Using just his fingertips, Reese touched the soft triangle of hair. Much more of that and he’d be on her again.
Instead, he transferred the touch to her pale belly, teased over a sharp hip bone, along a rounded hip.
Alice stirred, mumbled an incoherent sound and turned to her side away from him.
Why, thank you, Alice.
She had a great ass. Later, when he didn’t have Cash at the door, he would spend more time on that curvy little tush.
On all of her.
The more Reese studied her, the more he liked what he saw. The more special she seemed.
At thirty, he’d seen plenty of naked women, some with truly remarkable bodies, some beyond beautiful, all of them sexy.
None of them compared.
He couldn’t pinpoint what it was about Alice that set her apart. It wasn’t just her trim body or sincere face, her nurturing nature or cautious approach. It was...everything. Every inch of her, every facet of her character.
Cash whined, urging Reese from the bed. He didn’t want Alice to wake just yet. In fact, it astounded him that she slept on. He knew her to be ultra-aware. The fact that he could sneak around the room without disturbing her must mean she trusted him, at least a little.
He wanted her to trust him a lot.
Grabbing up his wallet and cell phone from the nightstand, his boxers and slacks from the floor, he eased the door open, using his knee to keep Cash from bounding in.
“Shhh,” he whispered to the dog. “You’re okay. We didn’t leave you.”
Cash leaped and twisted and woofed a few times, as if he’d been days without a visitor instead of a few hours.
It remained a challenge, reassuring the dog after finding him abandoned in a sealed box in the middle of the road.
“Love your enthusiasm, boy. And the fact that I don’t see any puddles. Give me a second, and I’ll take you out.”
Cash amped up the excitement over that idea, so much so that he made it nearly impossible for Reese to pull on his slacks.
Clearly, the dog enjoyed being outdoo
rs. Perhaps it was time for him to consider a house instead of the apartment. He could afford it. The apartment was just easier, or at least it had been up until he’d rescued Cash.
The dog deserved room to run, maybe in a big backyard. He’d have to give it some thought.
In nothing more than his slacks, Reese snuck out the front door with Cash on a leash. Though it wasn’t entirely nightfall yet, security lights flickered on over the parking lot. Reese strode out to the requisite tree, propped a bare shoulder against the bark and gave Cash enough leash to do his business. While he watched the dog sniff an imaginary trail, his thoughts wandered to Alice.
He’d meant to ask her about her day, to find out if she and Pepper had gone shooting or if—with any luck—they’d stuck to shopping. He’d planned on dinner, conversation, a little necking to ease her into things....
Alice had sidelined those plans easily enough.
The second he’d walked through the door, he’d known something was up. Amazing how she could remain so secretive about some things but didn’t even try to hide her attraction to him.
She’d seemed almost frantic to have him.
And he’d loved it.
Once she awoke he’d fix her dinner, shower with her and then take her right back to bed for a slower, more thorough taste. It didn’t matter that he’d buried himself inside her not that long ago. Already he burned with need, especially knowing she remained in the bed, so relaxed—and so naked.
Yeah, once she awoke, the last thing he’d want to do was talk about shopping.
With that decision made, Reese pulled out his cell phone. Better to get the deets from Rowdy so he could concentrate on more important things with Alice.
Namely, her sudden decision to move their relationship into scorching-hot intimacy. He didn’t know why she’d suddenly lost inhibition and caution, but he was more than grateful.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE FOOD SUCKED. Another thing he’d address once he got all the legalities out of the way. Not that he’d expected much from the bar, at least not in the way of food.
Leaving the dry crust of the meager sandwich on his plate, Rowdy finished off a pickle, the last chip and turned on the stool, elbows back on the bar, to peruse the room. Right now, it wasn’t that busy. But he knew, despite the lack of ambience and finer amenities, they’d soon have a crowd that would stay ’til closing.
Hard-core drinkers liked a dive as much as, sometimes more than, an upscale joint.
Once he took over, he’d keep it casual, Rowdy thought. At fifteen-hundred square feet, the building had enough room to add a few things, like billiards and a jukebox, especially once he got rid of the pole dancing. He’d offer the ladies, all three of them part-time, full-time positions instead. Once fixed up, the parking area would be big enough for eighteen cars. The adjoining parking lot, with another twenty spots, had proposed a reasonable agreement for usage.
He planned to offer affordable drinks with a limited but fresh menu. A variety of sandwiches, maybe chili, a soup of the day, fries.
Few came for the food.
But if he opened earlier in the day, that could change. And why not? He’d already looked into the liquor license. Might as well ensure he had a food permit, as well.
First he’d have to pass the background check that came with the liquor license. The idea of someone poking around in his private life, even in a cursory way, sent itchy alarms down his neck. He had nothing to hide—nothing, that is, that should prevent him from keeping the license.
Rather than continue stewing on things he couldn’t change, Rowdy searched the room until he spotted Avery. Far as distractions went, she was perfect. He watched her and knew she made a point of not looking at him.
Too bad.
He didn’t want to go home alone. Not tonight.
Some nights were just like that.
Restlessness gnawed on him, amplified by old memories. He needed to be busy, but right now he had nothing more to do. Unfortunately, doing nothing alone was not the same as doing nothing with someone.
Anyone.
But preferably Avery.
She strode past him on her way to the kitchen. Rowdy stopped her with a hand on her arm. And just that, such an impersonal touch, sparked a fire inside him. He stayed silent, enjoying the feel of her smooth warm skin.
The skin of her...arm. God, he needed to get laid.
Pausing, she looked at his hand, then up to his face. “How was your sandwich?”
“Stale bread.”
“I’m not surprised. Our so-called cook doesn’t know his butt from a biscuit.” She leaned closer. “He’s not all that conscientious about cleaning either.” The whispered words sent her breath warm across his ear.
A shudder ran over him. He couldn’t wait to feel her breath in other, more interesting places. “When I take over, that’ll change.”
She leaned away to scrutinize him. “So you’re serious about that?”
“Already have it in the works.” As long as he passed the background check. “I’m serious about you being the bartender, too.”
She chewed the corner of her mouth, considering him, then surprised him by dragging him away from the bar and toward a corner table.
He went willingly, curious what she’d do, what she had to say.
With privacy assured, she turned to face him. “In most places, the bartender is the most coveted job. So why me?”
Suspicion? He supposed she had reason. “You’re competent.”
“You barely know me.”
But I want you. Rowdy shook his head. “I’m a good judge of character.” And she had character in spades. “Bartending isn’t easy. Other than the financial management, it’s the most important job, so don’t think I’m doing you a huge favor.”
“I’m aware.” She held up a hand and ticked off points on her fingers. “You stand for hours on end. You get hit on in rapid succession, with the pushiest, most determined men also being the most inebriated. Drugs are rampant behind the bar. You have to have a great memory. You—”
He put a finger to her mouth—and somehow felt the touch in his dick.
Thinking of her mouth and his dick at the same time left him muddled. He had it bad.
Shaking his head, Rowdy tried to clear the lust. “Back up to the drugs.”
Somewhat dazed, her plump lips still pressed to his finger, she stared up at him.
Maybe now would be a good time to kiss her again. Keeping her gaze locked with his, he eased closer.
Suddenly she blinked hard, drew two breaths and took a step back so that his hand fell away. “You didn’t know?”
A lost opportunity. He never should have hesitated.
“About the drugs?” Sure, he suspected. Drugs were a problem everywhere, in every bar. But specifically here? He didn’t doubt it. “Enlighten me.”
Instead, she pursed her mouth. “I don’t think so. You aren’t the owner yet, and I don’t want to cause a firestorm and then get stuck in the middle of it.”
“See, this is why you’ll make a great bartender. You’re circumspect.”
“I’m not an idiot,” she corrected.
Rowdy eyed her sedate clothing and approved. “As to getting hit on, I doubt most bartenders have to worry about that.” Avery, with her petite figure and that sweet face, would have her hands full fending off the drunks. “It’s nice that you dress in a way to discourage the hopeful.”
“You
included?”
He ignored that. Damn it, he was hopeful. “And I assume you can learn the job?”
“Already know it inside and out.”
Fascinating. “I take it you’ve worked as a bartender before?”
“Last job, yep. And I tried to get the job here, but instead I ended up the barback.”
“Barback?”
“You know, the one who stocks the bar, keeps the ice bin filled, cuts up the fruit and garnishes, cleans the glasses....”
“I know what it is.” But it surprised him that she’d been hired for the position.
“For this place,” she added, “the barback also needed to supply protection for the bartender.” She lifted her shoulders. “I fell short in that category, so within three days I was told I had to waitress, which for the others also includes dancing that stupid pole. I refused that part, but I’m more competent than the others, so it’s allowed.”
Disbelief slammed into Rowdy. Someone had expected her to play bodyguard? Asinine. “What happened?”
“Which part?”
He growled his frustration. “The part where you fell short as protection.” He already knew Avery wouldn’t be caught sliding around on a pole for the delectation of drunks.
She hesitated some more. “How do I know this won’t go any farther?”
“You can have my word, if that counts for anything.”
For what felt like a lifetime, she studied his face. Rowdy resisted the urge to narrow his eyes in irritation. He was many things, most of them shady as shit.
But he wasn’t a liar.
Finally she nodded. “The drugs I mentioned? Well, some big guy—I think probably a supplier—came in on my third night, and he was really furious about something. Looked like he’d already gone up against a Mack truck, and he had his sights set on Dougie.”
“That’s the bartender here now, right?” Rowdy was familiar with the wiry, hyper guy usually serving up drinks. He had dark, thick hair held in a stubby ponytail, and sported a stud in one ear. Despite the foulness of the bar and the sketchy clientele, he smiled a lot.